


Run

by MorphineFangs



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Extremely Slow Burn, F/F, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, Ghirahim isn't such a bad guy, Ghiralink - Freeform, Heavy Angst, I suck as summaries and this isn't better than it sounds, I'm Bad At Tagging, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, NO PROMISES THO, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, Read at Your Own Risk, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Shh, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Ghirahim/Link, Timeline What Timeline, Torture, Wingfic, because i'm a sucker for visuals, but it's also not going to be abusive if that's any peace of mind, dubiously healthy relationships, dubiously in character, everyone else is moving out of the ghiralink fandom meanwhile i am jumping gungho into it, ghirahim x link, honestly I don't know what you expected, i might draw some fanart for later chapters if i work up the spoons, i was originally gonna name this The Fox's Lover but I thought it was too cheesy, if you catch my drift, if you're here for the smut you're gonna be here a long time because it's VERY eventual, in which Ganondorf is an Asshole, in which most of the bad guys are still bad guys but some of them aren't, incorrect portrayal of technological advancement, like Run is any better, link x ghirahim, look i'm not going to tell you the ghiralink relationship is healthy, not an accurate depiction of a completely healthy relationship, or more like Enemies to Friends to Almost Lovers to Enemies again to Lovers, take away my keyboard, whoever let me write this should be arrested, you'll see they'll see you'll all see i shout as i throw glasses at everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:44:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphineFangs/pseuds/MorphineFangs
Summary: Wingfic... sort of.  More like a sometimes supernatural fic, and I'm not good at deciding on a time period or setting so pretend this isn't the original Skyward Sword verse but also not real world verse.  Link has wings and Ghirahim is a kitsune, and Link is a concubine to Ganondorf, but not forever.  Why?  Because I said so.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tag, not beta read. Feel free to let me know about any typos and other thoughts in the comments though.

In a world where winged beings exist...

Little is known about the winged beings.  They look nearly human, like any other person, yet they have an ethereal, other worldly sort of beauty to them, and of course wings.

People would do anything to possess these beings, keep them for their own.  They’re willing to commit the most heinous and despicable of acts. And so to further set themselves apart from the beings they treat so inhumanely and to justify their means, they bestowed upon the winged beings a name, meaning other.

Alius.

So begins the tale of one such being.

* * *

Link can’t help the way he was born.  He doesn’t remember a time he didn’t have wings.  There’s not much he knows about the world he lives in, other than the fact merely having wings has made him a prime target.  

He hates them.

If it weren’t for the damned wings, perhaps he’d be outside these palace walls, living a normal life.  Instead of being trapped here playing favorite concubine under the thumb of a tyrannical man by the name of Ganondorf.  His only saving grace being that he’s still too young for his lord to  _ claim.  _

Even if his time is drawing short.

In half a year’s time, he will have reached his maturity… and then there is nothing stopping Ganon from having his way with him.

Link waits it with the resigned acceptance of a man on the gallows.

Captivity is all he’s ever known.  The earliest memories he has of his parents is how they were murdered in cold blood before his very eyes.  All to be captured and shipped off to Ganon’s doorstep.

He longs for freedom.  He watches the birds squabble over a bit of birdseed Link had tossed out for them.  The blond chuckles, tossing out a bit more to the side to break up the fight. One bird soon notices and hops over to the offering to peck at the new seed.

Belatedly he hears approaching footsteps, and both the birds are already flying off high into the sky.  Link’s gaze trails after them and he watches how they soar away with such ease. Painful longing is written all over his face.  He wishes he could so easily take to the skies as they do.

“Link,” comes a stern yet feminine voice from behind him, prompting him to sadly tear his gaze away from the bird and focus on the dark-skinned redhead behind him.  “It’s time for your checkup.”

Calisa, he thinks.  There are so many guards, he’s never sure if he can keep the names straight.  She’s nicer to him than some. Not by much, but she at least is patient enough to wait for him to get up and follow her, rather than grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him off without warning.  (Perhaps that is why they started sending her to retrieve him more.)

He merely gets up with a nod and follows her lead through the maze of hallways in the palace.  He still doesn’t have them even close to memorized. Although that may have less to do with Link’s memory capacity and more to do with the guards blocking him off from most locations.  There aren’t many places he’s allowed to go unsupervised, and the times he’s taken elsewhere supervised are few and far between.

It’s a long, quiet walk from his room to the doctor’s.  Some of the other guards will gossip to him, knowing Link would never repeat what they say.  Calisa either doesn’t see the point in small talk, or actually respects Link’s muteness. He can never tell which.  Perhaps she’d tell him if he asked, but he has no inclinations to do so.

He’s in a trancelike state as he’s ushered inside the doctor’s office, willing at least his mind to be somewhere else if nothing else.

He nods and shakes his head at all the appropriate questions—Are you well?— _ A nod _ —Are you in any pain currently?— _ He shakes his head, _ so on and so forth.  It’s all so very boring for him, and seconds to minutes blur together until finally it’s time clip his wings again.

The act itself is painless, even though the grip holding his wing in place is uncomfortable, but within him comes a pang in his heart with every clip of the shears until it’s all done and over with.

He nods quietly as the doctor tells him he’s good to go.  Just like always. The trip back to his bedroom is just as quiet as the trip before.  Link doesn’t really mind it.

As he enters his room, Calisa says, “Dinner will be in an hour.  He’s expecting you.”

There’s no need to clarify who  _ he _ is.  They both know fully well.

And all Link can do is nod.

It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Ganon doesn’t often do dinner with Link.  He’s always so busy that their time  _ together _ is rare and fleeting… thankfully.  He likes to spend dinner with Link when he’s in either a particularly  _ good _ or particularly  _ bad _ mood.  And Link has no way of knowing which one it is until he’s already in the thick of it.  Either way, it’s likely an uncomfortable affair for Link.

It’s with great trepidation he traverses the halls to the dining hall.  He can’t drag his feet, although he truly wishes he could. Ganon prefers punctuality.  Disobeying him will earn Link unforeseen consequences. 

The closer he gets, the harder and faster his heart beats in his chest.  He has to actively force himself not to hyperventilate. It’s hard to calm down when one knows it won’t be okay, it’ll never be okay.  He edges carefully toward the entrance, every self-preservation instinct he’s forced to ignore practically screaming at him to turn around and run.

But he does not.

As he enters the dining hall, he catches the shortest of glimpses of a thunderous expression on Ganon’s face before the man’s expression turns just that specific kind of gleeful one never wants to be on the receiving end of.  Bad mood. Very bad mood.

In similar Gerudo fashion, Ganon has dark skin and bright red hair.  He has a strong jaw with a neatly trimmed red beard, prominent nose… deep-set eyes which seem to be able to pierce right through a man to his very soul.  He’s in his dark noble clothes, rather than his usual armour, but that isn’t necessarily a good sign.

LInk’s heart is in his throat as he steps lightly to a seat beside the head of the table.  He knows better by now than to sit any farther away.

Despite all Link’s refusal to speak and preference for near silence, Ganon can make any silence uncomfortable.  It’s deafening, heavy, and speaks of the unknown.

Link knows this dance.  Refusing to eat will end him up in trouble quickly, so he makes himself eat a spoonful in desperate hope Ganon will be merciful this time around.  With those piercing amber eyes on him, Link is terrified. He feel likes a rabbit beneath the gaze of a starving wolf.

“My guards tell me you’ve been behaving well, pet.”

The words are nothing Link could have predicted.  It’s a deceivingly light topic. Nonetheless he gives an agreeable nod, looking up briefly before averting his gaze.  Not daring to make eye contact with the man.

“Let me get a good look at you.” 

It’s the only warning Link receives before a strong, rough grip is taking hold of his chin and wrench his face upward until he’s forced to look at Ganon.  There’s a tense moment where the Gerudo lord just stares at him, taking in every tiny detail. 

The grip on his chin is painful.  Link doesn’t dare struggle.

Whatever he seems to be looking for, Ganon must have found it.  He hums thoughtfully, letting go of Link.

Ganon gives no indication of his thoughts on the analysis.  This is not an isolated incident. Link never knows why he wants to ‘get a good look’ at him, but it’s commonplace now.  

A few more tense moments of dinner before Ganon abruptly gets up from his seat and Link’s heart seizes.  He looks up at the man, startled and wide eyed, but he’s not looking at Link.

“I must go.  Enjoy the rest of your night, my pet.”

Link stares in confusion as he leaves.

That… that’s it?  Just like that?

He’d fully been expecting for Ganon to lay into him.  To get some entirely undeserved punishment just so Ganon could vent his anger.  He hadn’t seemed to be in a good mood, so why is it he did nothing to Link? He even wished him a good night.

Link shivers nervously.  Even so, he doesn’t dare look a gift horse in the mouth.

He hurries up and finishes his food before carrying his and Ganon’s dishes into the kitchen over to the sink, where a servant quickly takes them from him and shoos him out of the room.  Link isn’t really allowed to do the dishes. Or much of anything really. He’s little more than a pretty wallflower, or sometimes Ganon uses him to take out his anger on.

Link settles back down on the narrow porch outside his room, watching the sun slowly set.  

There are so many birds in the sky.

It must be nice.

He sighs.

“Well now, what have we here?”

Link startles, his wings flapping uselessly behind him.  He looks around wildly until his eyes settle on… a man?

The man is swathed in white robes that seem to flow in the wind around his feet.

His skin is a deep ashy color, not the dark skin of a Gerudo, but also not the fair skin color Link has.  His hair is stark white, a long fringe of it covering one of his dark eyes. His ears are pointed, so it’s possible he’s a Hylian… 

Somehow, Link doesn’t get the feeling he’s a Hylian though.

Regardless of who or what the man is, there shouldn’t be any way for someone like him to find Link here.  Ganon does, after all, keep Link on a very tight leash and closely monitors what and who has the privilege of seeing him.  

Link watches him warily.  He hunches forward, wings slightly curling around him defensively, as if they can somehow shield him from any incoming attack.  Perhaps this is the wrong move, as the man’s attention is immediately drawn to the feathery appendages.

“My my,” he breathes, “what pretty wings you have there.”

Many people have commented on how his tawny wings—just a shade darker than his hair—were so beautiful, even if Link doesn’t really see it.

He flushes, wanting to look away.  He dares not pull his sight away from the man though.  He tells himself it’s so the man can’t catch him off guard, and not because of how oddly attractive he is.  Although the man’s own appearance is nothing to sniff at—sharp yet youthful features and large doe eyes that nearly rival his own blue.

“What an easily flustered little thing you are,” the man comments, stepping forward until he’s crouching before Link.  

Link’s eyes widen as with the close proximity he realizes the man’s flowing robes aren’t robes at all, but in fact tails.  He’s not able to count how many, but instinctively he’s sure there are nine. 

A kitsune.

“Do you not speak?”

With a start he realizes he’s been asked a question.  Hurriedly he shakes his head no.

“I see.  Such a pity, little Skychild,” the kitsune says.

It’s an odd nickname.  One he’s never heard used on him before.  Is it because of the wings?

The man is staring at him.  He has a piercing stare, just like Ganon.  Link hasn’t decided yet whether it makes him uncomfortable or not.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, Skychild?”

The man is certainly full of surprises.  No one ever asks if they can sit with him.  They simply  _ do. _  Granted, there aren’t many other people who sit with him other than Ganon, and that’s always a terrifying experience he never gets used to.

So he gives this question genuine consideration.  Half of him is fearful the question is rhetorical.  Link observes the man with a critical gaze. He seems… harmless enough… 

Link nods his assent. 

He does not expect the dazzling smile he receives.  The kitsune sits down beside him. Not so close they’re side by side directly, but still close enough a tail or two just barely brushes up against him occasionally.  There is a short companionable silence.

Link thinks to himself that perhaps his company isn’t so bad.

They’re quiet enough the birds return, pecking around at what’s left of the birdseed from earlier.  Link gives a nearly soundless chuckle at their antics. The kitsune hears him all the same, and Link supposes that is to be expected.

The man hums in thought before softly confiding to him, “I am called Ghirahim.  Lord Ghirahim, if you would like to be technical, but I’m not fussy.”

Link gives a quiet little snort at the introduction.  Still, he finds himself committing the name to memory.

Ghirahim.  He would remember the man.  Even if this is the one and only time he ever sees the man, Link will remember him.  Such an odd fellow, how could he not?

At first he wasn’t sure, unsure over the decision, but he eventually decides to go out on a limb.  Link taps Ghirahim’s shoulder to get his attention. Chews at his lip nervously before he gestures to himself, then signs out the letters for his name.

Ghirahim takes a moment to puzzle together what he’s trying to say until finally his face lights up, “Link?  That is your name?”

The blond nods enthusiastically.

“Well then, Link,” Ghirahim says with a bow of his head, “it is wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

Link titters behind his hand, overjoyed to have a companion who actually wishes to speak to him, despite the fact Link doesn’t really… speak.  It’s a start.

“Tell me…” the man says after another long and thoughtful pause, “you don’t  _ really  _ like it here, do you?”

Link is taken aback by the question, his entire body going rigid from the shock.  He knows plenty of people can tell, if they’ve been around him long enough. However, no one has ever drawn attention to the fact.  For this man to assess as much within a few minutes and go so far as to call him out on it, well. That’s unheard of. Or so he thought…

Even if Link would have said something in reply, he never gets that chance.

“Link!  Lord Ganondorf requests your presence.”

Link whirls around, ready to defend his new companion as he’d undoubtedly need to do, but as he glances back once more the man in white is gone.  Link turns back to the Gerudo woman and reluctantly gets up to follow her.

Best not to keep him waiting...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished the commission I was working on, so I scribbled up a little doodle to go with this chapter

The next time Ghirahim visits him is the following night, while he’s (attempting at) nursing his wounds.  Most of which are on his backside, and thus practically impossible to reach. He’d pilfered some antiseptic and ointment from storage.  Not that it’s currently doing him any good.

Ganondorf does not allow the doctor to treat these particular wounds, nor any of the guards to help, claiming there’s no way he could _‘learn his lesson’_ otherwise.  Never mind that he was being punished for nonexistent wrongs.

He sighs wearily, setting down jar of ointment by the cloth and bottle of antiseptic he has beside him.  Most of the lash wounds on his back are a lost cause with his wings blocking his view and reach. They’re a stinging reminder of his lord’s cruelty.  There are even a few across his palms that have made his self-assigned task exceedingly harder.  The reason for this 'punishment'?  Not looking at Ganon while he was talking to him.  


He sighs again, and with that single exhale of breath he feels like he’s letting all his hopes and dreams escape him as well.  What’s the point in any of this?

“You look quite blue today, Skychild.”

Link jolts out of what he’s doing.  Lifts his gaze from the ointment beside him to the floorboards, to clawed feet and white robes until his eyes settle on a familiar dark eyed gaze.  He hadn’t particularly expected the fox to return. Yet here he is, standing before him.

“Don’t act so surprised,” the fox says with a chuckle, “I’m stunning, I know.”

Link can’t help it, he gives a snort at Ghirahim’s words. Clearly humbleness is not his strong suit.  It amuses Link at least.

The man is quick to switch topics.

“Ah, those wounds.  Allow me to help you with them.”

Link surprises himself when he lifts his hands for Ghirahim to see.  Ghirahim steps forward, kneeling before where Link is sitting on the floor and carefully holds Link’s hands in his own.  He tuts to himself, just barely brushing a thumb around the outer edge a particularly deep gash. 

“You’re lucky I’ve gotten here so promptly.  An infection in wounds of this caliber may have been deadly.”

Link merely shrugs at the comment.  It’s not like he has any control over the situation or anything.  Not as far as he knows anyway.

“It varies from person to person, but this may burn a little, and for that you have my apologies,” Ghirahim says in what may or may not be an apologetic tone right before Link braces himself.

He's not sure what he expected, but soon his body is filled to the brim with warmth and he blacks out for but a second.

Hunched over with hands braced on the floor, it takes him a few hazy moments to realize.

It doesn’t hurt.

His hands don’t hurt.  His back doesn’t hurt.

All the pain is gone.

“No need to thank me.” Ghirahim almost sounds sarcastic.

Link just smiles brightly at him.  For all that it had hurt, he feels so much better now.  In fact, this is likely the best he’s felt in his life, and it has his heart aflutter.  A flash of shock appears on the fox’s face before he schools his expression. Link’s not even sure it had really been shock at all.

The fox chuckles, “Well then, Skychild.  Is it not getting late?”

Link gives him a frown of disapproval, trying to clearly display how much he  _ doesn’t _ want to go to sleep yet.  This only seems to drag yet another chuckle out of him, and has Link crossing his arms with a huff.

Ghirahim sits back on the floor, tails curling around and settling in a graceful way Link can’t help but be distracted by.  They really are beautiful, the same pure white of Ghirahim’s hair, and they look so fluffy, like the clouds on a sunny day.

“Hmm…” Ghirahim looks at Link assessingly.  A few more beats of silence. The fox feigns a sigh, “Shall I tell you a story then, little sparrow?”

The blond gives an eager nod.  His face twists up thoughtfully before he holds up a finger to signal Ghirahim to wait a moment as he scuttles to the other side of the room to grab his futon and tug it across the floor.  He settles down on the futon, snuggling up against a pillow as he looks up at the fox with his big blue eyes alight with excitement.

“Very well,” Ghirahim says as Link is finally still, “this is the story of the fox bride.”

He holds out a hand, palm up, and then there is a flame held in it.  It flickers and twists until it takes on the simple shape of what looks like a lady with long hair.  Link’s eyes first set on the way the light shines in Ghirahim’s dark eyes and then finds himself staring at the flame, entranced.  

It’s beautiful.

“Long ago,” Ghirahim speaks softly, but his words still reach Link’s ears with ease, “there lived a young woman, not so different from you or I.  This woman was beautiful like a flower in bloom, beautiful dark hair like the night and skin pale as the moon. Likely, she could have had any man she wanted, but… her father had different plans...”

The flame in his hand morphs from the shape of the woman to show a man.  The woman is now on her knees, hands held up in what seems to be a pleading position.

Link is watching, listening as he hangs on to every word.  He nearly forgets to breathe as Ghirahim continues to weave his tale.

“You see,” he continues, “her father, he had promised her to a rich and powerful lord, for he would live lavishly for the rest of his life and never have to work another day in return.  He cared not for his daughter’s well-being or happiness, merely about himself. And so the lord gave the man what he wanted, and took her away no matter how much she protested.”

There are two men now who are guiding the woman away from the father as the father simply waves.

Link wonders if he really wants to hear this story.  It doesn’t sound… like a very happy story… but he dares not stop Ghirahim now.  He’s much too invested in the story of the beautiful woman with the moon pale skin and hair as black as night.  He wants to know what will happen to her.

And Ghirahim is fully intent on telling Link just that.  All in due time.

“The lord was a cruel, bitter man.”  All the people floating above Ghirahim’s palm then vanish and reform to show a princely looking man.  “He, much like the woman’s father, was a man who only cared about himself. Born into royalty, he knew no humbleness.  He was ruthless and cold. The woman knew how bad a man he was, had begged and begged her father not to send her away to this vile man.  But her pleas went unheeded. She was forced to live with him in autumn, and come spring they would be wedded. She dreaded the day their wedding would come.”

The princely man vanishes and again there is the woman, now in a room.  Link thinks he can even see her staring longingly out a window at her bedside.  There’s a pang in his heart for this fictional woman, as he can see himself in her.

“She still held out hope she could somehow escape, that perhaps someone would hear of her plight and come to save her.  She began to pray every night for something,  _ anything  _ to save her.  It’s the only hope she has left, dwindling more and more with every passing day.”

The woman’s hands move to a praying position, her lips moving soundlessly in silent prayer.

“One day, something answers those prayers,” he says as a small flame beside the woman forms into the shape of a fox, “the fox visits her in her bedroom, and for the first time in her life she feels there is one who truly cares for her.  One who listens. The fox visits her every night when she prays and she speaks to it, of her worries, her fears. She speaks to it of how she so dearly longs for freedom. And the fox listens, it hears her every word.”

The animated little flames of the woman and the fox are having a soundless conversation with each other as Ghirahim tells their story.

“Soon, the woman finds she cares for this fox.  It has listened to her plight dutifully and kept her company for so many weeks now, but the time of her wedding is drawing near.  Soon she will be wedded to her cruel lord. She now wanted to escape more than ever, pleaded with the kind and caring fox to take her away.  The woman insisted she could not be wedded to that man. Not when her heart belonged to the fox.”

The flames morph once more to show the woman crying before the fox.

“And the fox… heard her.”

All the flames vanish.  All is quiet for a long moment.  Link’s eyes are trained on Ghirahim’s face as he listens to the deafening silence with bated breath.  

Is… is that it?  The end of the story?

But then, Ghirahim is speaking once more.

“Before long, word gets out the lord’s livestock have been getting mysteriously slaughtered.  One early morning there is word several of the lord’s chickens were found mutilated, and the maids found the woman in her room with muddied feet and blood on her hands.  There were feathers in her bed, so there was no doubt she had to be the culprit. But she could not remember the night before, and the maids shared the woman’s dislike of their cruel lord, and so they simply cleaned her up and neglected to tell the lord of their findings.”

The flames show some maids fussing over the woman, and then her being dropped into a washtub as the maids continue to fuss over her and scrub her clean.  The flames again warp to show the woman staring longingly out her window as she did before.

“Alas, this was the beginning of many odd occurrences, each escalating to be worse than the last.  Every time the woman would be found with muddy feet and blood on her hands. The fox no longer visited her as he once did.  She was left to weather this trial alone.”

“She began to notice strange changes.  Her nails became sharper, as did her teeth.  Her skin began to itch as she felt more and more restless.  She became more aggressive, snapping even at the kind maids who helped her.”

The flames dutifully depict all this as Ghirahim speaks.  

There is another one of his long pauses.  

The fox sighs, and flames appear in his hands once more, this time depicting what appears to be the lord arguing with some of the maids.  The woman is nearby, eavesdropping perhaps.

“The lord grew impatient, irritated.  The lord declared to the maids he would wed the woman tomorrow, that he would allow no more delay.  His decision could not be swayed, and the woman despaired over this. She thought the fox would save her, and yet here she was, waiting for the day of her wedding as if she were on the gallows waiting for her execution.  She ran back to her bedroom before the lord could notice her eavesdropping, and once again she cried and sobbed as she prayed at her window. She confided that she would rather choose death than to be wedded to the cruel lord.  She continued to cry until she fell into a fitful sleep.”

The woman in the flames collapses on Ghirahim’s hand, falling asleep.  He closes his hand around the flame, causing Link to gasp. When he opens his hand there sits a fox in white flames.

“When the maids came to retrieve the woman from her room to prepare her for the wedding, they found nothing but an empty room and her clothing from the day before forgotten at the center of the room.  Many search parties were sent out to find her, but none were successful. Months went on, but she was never found.”

Link stares in confusion when Ghirahim grows quiet.

“Ah, that’s the end of the story, Skychild,” the fox told him, “I suppose you’re wondering what happened to the woman—” Link gives a pointed nod. “—no one knows.  Some believe she became a fox, just like the one she had fallen in love with. Some believe she may have taken her own life to escape the fate of marrying the cruel lord.  There are many theories as to just what happened to the woman. But they’re just that—theories.”

Link frowns up at him, but he just gives Link a lopsided smile before leaning forward to ruffle his blond hair.  He swats half-heartedly at Ghirahim’s hand.

“Well then, Skychild.  It’s rather late, I shall let you sleep now.”

Link wants to protest, to insist the fox stay longer, but such a feat is hard to achieve when he does not speak.  The crestfallen expression on his face is clear as day regardless. Ghirahim cocks his head curiously.

“Do not worry, Skychild,” he smirks, “I’m not leaving forever.  We will meet again sooner than you think.”

* * *

The next day, just like the day before, Link is invited to dine with Ganon.  This is not the norm. Ganon usually forgets about him for a few days, rather than spending time with him two nights in a row.  Link can only speculate this might be related to the fact he will reach maturity soon. The lord intends to claim him soon.

Link can’t help but think back on Ghirahim’s story of the fox’s bride.  She was being forced into a claiming by a cruel lord too. He wonders if she had a happy ending, after everything else.  Ghirahim had a far away look in his eyes back when he was telling the story, as if he was drawing on actual memory rather than merely weaving a fiction tale.

None of these thoughts are things he has the luxury of dwelling on while dining with Ganon.  He would be most displeased if Link isn’t paying the man his undivided attention.

At first the dinner is going well.  Better than yesterday at the very least.  Ganon eats, eyes near constantly trained on Link as he nibbles at his own food.  It’s good food, but as oft is the case, he doesn’t feel hungry.

It’s as Link is lifting another spoonful of soup that a dark hand lashes out and takes hold of Link’s wrist.  The spoon drops and clinks against the bowl before clattering on the table, splattering the soup across the table.

Link’s hand is forcefully flipped so it faces palm up, and Ganon’s eyes immediately narrow.  A cold tendril of dread curls in his gut and his heart skips a beat. He’s supposed to still be wounded.  Ganon can now clearly see this is not the case.

He tries to tug his hand back to himself, but Ganon’s grip on his wrist tightens until Link swears he can feel the bones beginning to creak from the strain.  He whimpers lowly.

“There were wounds here yesterday,” the lord says calmly, but Link knows that calm is thinly masking a violent storm of rage, “where have they gone?”

Link winces as that grip tightens again.  He gives a little shrug to Ganondorf’s question.  He already knows it’s too late to placate the man.  He likely didn’t have a chance of doing so to begin with.

“You are trying my patience, boy,” Ganon says, his voice taking on a rumbling, growling tone that promises pain.

That dread with him curls his stomach into knots.  He should have known there would be consequences to letting Ghirahim heal him.  But he had been foolish. Now he’s paying for that mistake in full.

Link gives another pathetic whimper as he’s dragged off to the lord’s bedroom.

He should have known.

* * *

“Skychild?”

He doesn’t waste the energy lifting his head when spoken to.  Just lays as still as he is capable, in fetal on his futon. His body is quivering visibly, a wing curled over his body in a fruitless attempt to hide him from the world.

The fox can easily still see him clearly.

He lifts the wing a little higher, shielding his face from Ghirahim.

In the next moment Ghirahim is knelt before him, lifting up Link’s wing to peek beneath it at Link.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, as if there’s any need for explanation.  They both know well what’s the matter without Link having to speak a single word.  “My my, what a murderous look that is on your face, Skychild. Careful, your face just might decide to stick that way.”

Link looks away with an angry huff.  Ghirahim watches him, tapping his chin thoughtfully.  Link peeks back up at him from the corner of his eye. Strange, he hadn’t noticed the fox has claws.  Although he supposes it would only make sense, being a fox and all.

“Was this perchance my fault?” Ghirahim asks him.  All Link offers is a shrug. “Very well, allow me to fix it once more.”

Link takes an instinctive head back, giving an unsure shake of his head.  He doesn’t want to go through that healing process again just for Ganon to tear into him all over again.  Ghirahim takes careful note of his hesitance.

“You do not wish for me to heal you?”

Link shakes his head again.  The fox’s eyes narrow. He takes a step forward and Link flinches, causing the fox to halt his movements.

“At the very least, would you allow me to numb the pain?” Ghirahim extends a hand toward him, palm facing up.

Link stares at the hand for just a beat long enough for the silence to grow awkward.  As the man seems to come to the conclusion this is his way of saying no and starts to pull his hand away Link panics and grabs hold of the hand after all, shocking them both.  Ghirahim stares at their interlocked hands in wonder, then up at Link’s face.

Ghirahim clears his throat, “Yes, well.  Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Near instantly after he speaks, Link’s body is filled with warmth, starting from the hand Ghirahim is holding.  It doesn’t take long for his entire body to feel pleasantly warm. Not such intense warmth as before, but a soft warmth.

He lets slip a sigh of relief at the soothing sensation.

Even as the pain begins to ebb, Ghirahim does not just yet release Link’s hand.  His expression seems to be one of puzzlement.

“I truly am sorry my actions have put you in harm’s way,” he says to the silence.

It’s now Link takes note of how dark it’s getting, how quiet it now is, save for a few crickets chirping their little songs.  This makes the kitsune’s voice sound all the louder. His words of apology twist Link’s heart painfully and makes him want to console him.

Link pats Ghirahim’s hand gently, offering the man a wistful smile.

Ghirahim seems to abruptly become aware of the fact he still hasn’t let go of the boy’s hand.  He pulls back with such remarkable speed, one might wonder if he’d been stung. Link cocks his head curiously.

“I lost myself for a moment there,” he says in way of explanation, “I do not wish to overstep my bounds.”

Link shakes his head, hoping it would convey he was not bothered by the action.  Smiles at the man fondly. It hadn’t been long since they’d met, only just barely twenty-four hours in fact, but he already feels strong affection attachment toward him.

Link supposes it only makes sense, given how touch-starved and socially repressed he is.

“You don’t mind?” Ghirahim asks, and Link nods, grateful he got the idea.  Ghirahim makes a dramatic show of sighing with grand hand gestures, “Ah, I am so relieved to hear that!  It simply wouldn’t do for you to be uncomfortable. I shudder to think how I’d feel inside knowing I had upset such a sweet Skychild such as yourself.”

He thinks Ghirahim likes to hear himself talk, but it’s pleasant the man is able to fill the silence with such ease.  It means Link doesn’t have to talk so much.

The kitsune turns his head to look back toward the sunset painted skies.  The sun would be fully gone within the hour.

“Oh, would you just look at the time,” Ghirahim says, “I hadn’t even noticed how late it was, silly me.  I’d loathe to be the cause of you missing out on precious beauty rest. Not that you’d need it with a cute face like that.”

Link’s face flushes bright red as he keeps his eyes trained on the floor.  He’s not good at hiding his emotions, and it shows when the fox chuckles at him.

“So easily flustered, Skychild.  Careful, a lesser man might see fit to take advantage.”

Link of course knows this fact intimately, all too well.  Time and time, personal experience had proven the statement to be true.

“Well then, I really must be going,” Ghirahim’s standing, brushing off imaginary dust on his robes.

The fox jolts to a stop.  Slowly looks down to wear a single hand has grabbed hold of a white sleeve.  Desperate to keep him from leaving. Ghirahim offers only a quirked brow at the action.

Link blushes even worse than before, now for an entirely different reason, but as he stares at the floor he still doesn’t let go of Ghirahim’s sleeve.

He tries to speak.  Opens his mouth as if to do so, but chokes on his own words.  Gives a little cough and works his mouth around the words he’s meaning to say, even though he’s still unsure of what those words ought to be.

Finally, he manages to say in a quiet, raspy voice, the kind of voice one can only acquire from long months, years even of disuse, “T… Tell m—me more,” Link says in a soft voice, coughing again.  This really is rough on his throat. “Tell me more, about the woman and the fox.”

Both Ghirahim’s eyebrows raise in clear surprise, and Link entertains the thought that maybe his eyebrows are trying to migrate to his hairline.

Ghirahim gains control of himself and gives Link another chuckle, “You want to know more about the fox’s bride?”

The blond nods meekly.

“What about her interests you?” he asks.

Link nibbles at his lip thoughtfully.  Another soft cough before he says, “I... want to know… what happened to her.  Did she escape? Did… did she… d—die?”

Ghirahim hums, settles back down on the floor before him, “Ah, the thing about the fox’s bride is the story ending is meant to be up to the reader’s interpretation.  The ending is whatever you wish it to be.”

Link pouts at him.  Surely it’s not so simple?

“You didn’t really think the story was  _ real, _ did you?” Ghirahim laughs more openly this time.  “Oh, Skychild, I had no idea you were so gullible. How cute.”

Link crosses his arms, frowning harder at him.

“Hmm…” Ghirahim taps his chin.  “If it shall make you feel better… the most commonly accepted story ending is that she became a fox, much like the one who seduced her.  They… eloped together, I suppose you might say.”

It does make him feel a little better.  Link’s not sure why, but he just truly wants to see the woman in the story be happy.  Maybe because of how much he sees himself in her. Maybe one day, he can become free like she did.

“Was that all you wanted to know?” Ghirahim asks him.

Link bites at his lip.  He can’t think of anything else to ask him.  He doesn’t want him to leave.

“Stay?” he eventually asks, hopeful.  Pathetic. “At least until I fall asleep?”

Ghirahim doesn’t even bother feigning being put upon.  Internally, he’s quite smug at how dependent the Skychild is becoming in such little time.  So easily… manipulated.

“Sure,” the kitsune tells him, willing the smirk he feels within not to appear on his face, “I can do that for you.”

Although Link feels the reassurance of a comforting presence, a warm body of someone who means him no harm beside him, Link holds no delusions he would stay for long.  

Ghirahim doesn’t cuddle up to him or touch him, even as he lays just inches away with Link on the futon.  And why should he? Link hasn’t earned such familiarity. It’s merely a childish desire, but no matter how much he wishes it, nothing will make Ghirahim stay unless he wants to.

Link wants to reach out.  Wants to see if that hair is as soft and silky as it looks.  Wants to run gentle hands against that flawless grey skin. Wants to feel that warmth  _ closer.   _ But instead he does nothing.

It’s not something he deserves.

He doesn’t even deserve what little he’s being given, though he very much appreciates it.  He’ll just have to enjoy it while he still can.

As heavy lids slowly close over tired blue eyes, Link could have sworn he heard someone say, “Sweet dreams, Skychild.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, let me know what you think, and sorry for any typos. I've kinda been working on this for the past few hours straight, haha


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I've really been jumping the gun on these first few chapters! I've still got a bit more written I haven't posted yet, but once I catch up with that, I'm hoping to post on a more regular schedule. Probably weekly on Saturdays, maybe sooner if I can manage.

As Link had predicted, Ghirahim is no longer present when he awakens.  Even though he expected it, he still feels a pang of hurt at the revelation.  The fox has shown him such kindness, and he feels guilty he just wants to drag more out of him.  He’s just so used to Ganon’s treatment that even what little the fox offers is like heaven to him.

It’s truly a travesty he’s here, trapped as the favorite concubine of such a cruel leader.  Having Ghirahim treat him so well is making him realize he  _ is _ worthy of being treated well.  That it’s not an impossibility and there’s so much more out there.  It’s making him crave more. It’s making him utterly detest the life he has.

And it makes him want to escape.

These are dangerous thoughts on his mind.  They’re thoughts which could easily wind him up dead.  Try as he might to push the thoughts away though, he simply can’t.  Likely, he’ll never be able to get rid of the thoughts again.

Unfortunately, life goes on.

He soon finds himself at yet another dinner with Ganon that night.  

In deep contrast to the little brief touches he’d received from the kitsune that caused fire to curl in his belly from the excitement, any touch from Ganon makes him instantly feel disgusting.  It’s the kind of dirty sensation that skitters and itches at his skin like hundreds of tiny bugs crawling everywhere those hands have made contact. The kind of dirt no amount of vigorous, frantic scrubbing the bath will ever wash away (and yet he will inevitably try).

“Hmm… your wounds have remained this time, I see,” Ganondorf sneers, then he points his fork at Link, “I  _ will _ have you tell me the identity of whomever healed them before.  Do not think you can keep it from me forever. One way or another, I will extract it from you.”

Link shudders, cringing away from Ganon’s stare.  Even though it’s a mere eating utensil being pointed at him, it may as well be Ganon’s favorite sword.  He knows the man can do a severe amount of damage even with that fork alone.

The man lets the fork clatter on the empty plate, then pushes away from the table, rounding it to where Link sits, trembling like a leaf.  He strokes a hand over blond locks, eyes narrowing when Link cringes away once more. He closes a his fist around a few locks of hair and tugs him back towards himself.

The dark man leans in, his face so close Link can feel warm breaths wafting against his face.  Smells that night’s dinner on his breath. An undertone akin to rancid meat. And he hates it. He hates it, he hates it so much.  He wants to be anywhere but here. The fist in his hair is keeping him rigid in place.

“You— _ will _ —submit—to—me,” the man enunciates very slowly and clearly, as if Link is some dumb child who has been caught misbehaving.  Only once Link whimpers softly with tears in his eyes does Ganon relent. He pulls away with a satisfied huff. Ganondorf begins walking away briskly, casually throwing over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’ll be increasing your nightly guards.”

* * *

 

Link is crushed.  

How will Ghirahim visit him now?  Will he even bother when he sees how hard it’ll be just to get to him?

The more he puzzles over it, the more upset he gets.  Every time he gets something remotely good in his life, Ganon just rips it away from him like candy from a baby.  This too, he should not have been surprised, was brutally torn right out of his hands.

Link scrubs at his skin more furiously, but the creepy-crawly feeling still doesn’t go away.  He’s been at it for several minutes now, and his skin is an angry red. It will probably be sore and hard to deal with later.

He throws himself under the scorching hot water so he can pretend the wetness on his cheeks is the water from the bath, rather than tears leaking from his own eyes.

The blond stays under the water until his lungs are practically screaming for oxygen and he can force himself to stay under no longer.  Finally, he comes up with a desperate gasp, sweet oxygen filling his lungs once more.

“There you are.  I was beginning to fear you had drowned and I’d have no other choice but to resuscitate you.”

Link turns surprised eyes on the white haired man stood right behind him.  Much to his embarrassment, he’s openly gaping.

“Not that I’d mind being your dashing knight in shining armor.  As lovely a fish impression as that is, Skychild, I was hoping we might have a normal conversation.  Unless you do not desire my company tonight, perchance?”

Link  _ does _ want Ghirahim’s company, but… he glances pensively toward the entrance to the bathhouse, where the guards are waiting just outside the door.  

There’s no roof to the bathhouse, allowing Link to stare up at the stars while he washes up and tries to relax.  Perhaps that’s how Ghirahim got in.

“Oh, the guards?” Ghirahim asks lightly.  He gives the blond a smug grin, “Don’t worry about them.  I think you might find they decided to… turn in early for the night.”

He stares at the fox in confusion.

Ghirahim rolls his eyes, “I knocked them out, okay?  They’ll probably be out for at least a few hours. Plenty of time for  _ us  _ to bathe and get you back to your room.”

This brings Link more worries than it assuages  Ghirahim knocked his guards out? But what if they tell Ganon what happened?  What if they don’t stay knocked out, and they come in and spot Link with Ghirahim?  And what does Ghirahim mean by  _ us? _

“I can see you’re feeling a little overwhelmed,” Ghirahim says, watching him coolly. “Understandable.  There are after all, a lot of stimuli your poor mind is attempting to process. Don’t worry about your guards ratting you out.  They won’t remember me, or that they were forcefully knocked out. They’ll wake up thinking they simply slept on the job, and I assure you they’ll likely be too embarrassed and fearful of punishment should they tell your… lord.”

Well, that answers a few of Link’s questions at least. 

No time to ponder that, as Ghirahim has somehow disrobed while Link wasn’t paying attention and is sliding into the bath beside Link.  There’s plenty of room so while Ghirahim is near, he’s not touching him, just like with the night before. So that’s what he meant when he said ‘us’.  Link should have expected as much.

Ghirahim simply enjoys the warmth of the water against his skin, humming softly.  A few long moments later, he turns a considering look toward Link.

“Your back and wings must be quite difficult to wash all by your lonesome.  Allow me to assist you.”

It’s not a request, of course, but even so if Ghirahim asked permission Link finds he doesn’t want to tell the man no.  He very much enjoys the attention. Ghirahim’s hands against his skin soothes wherever it touches, banishing that dirty feeling he’d struggled so hard to be rid of.  It’s so easy for the fox, Link thinks. He wonders what it is that allows him to do it so easily.

The hands that caress his wings, massage at his back and lather up the soap, they’re so gentle.  Slow and careful, as if they have all the time in the world and no need to rush. It’s belatedly Link realizes how tense he’d still been, as his muscles finally relax fully.  He gives a sigh, leaning into Ghirahim’s touch.

The fox notices this and laughs, “Enjoying this, are you?”

Link just nods mindlessly.  Ghirahim laughs again, but those wonderful hands don’t leave him, and for that Link is thankful.  

“If you lean back this way, I can help you with your hair too.”

The offer surprises him.  It doesn’t take much thinking before he’s nodding his head and doing as Ghirahim says.  He leans back against Ghirahim and just enjoys the feeling of gentle fingers combing through his hair, of nails lightly scraping against his scalp in just the right way.  He’s no stranger to having someone else do his bathing for him, but this like many of the other things Ghirahim has done for him is like no other.

He gives a content little sigh as Ghirahim lowers him down into the water to rinse the suds out of his hair.  Again his skilled fingers comb through Link’s hair, and Link thinks he could get used to doing this all the time.  He wonders if Ghirahim would be open to the idea.

He doesn’t voice any of his desires.  Doesn’t dare tell Ghirahim what he’s thinking.  Doesn’t dare take more than he’s given. He wants to so very badly.

Link frowns at Ghirahim when the man gets up out of the water.  He’d been enjoying that, dammit!

The frown lessens a little when Ghirahim comes back with one of the fluffy towels nearby.  He allows the fox to pull him up out of the water and pat him dry.

Link speaks in his soft, raspy voice, “Weren’t you going to bathe too?”

“Hm?” Ghirahim looks up from where he’d been patting the towel.  “Oh, I’ve already bathed for the evening. I just wanted the excuse to get in the bath with such an adorable little sparrow.”

Despite himself, Link’s face flushes bright red.  Ghirahim just smirks up at him before deeming Link dry and draping the large towel loosely over the blond’s shoulders.

“I’m assuming those silk pajamas over there are yours?” Ghirahim asks, receiving a nod of the affirmative.  He gives a low whistle, “Well then, the lord certainly does like dressing up his pets in fancy clothes, hm?”

Link shrugs.  It’s not a subject he’s comfortable talking about.  Anything regarding  _ his lord _ isn’t.

“I can see that makes you uncomfortable,” Ghirahim observes all too easily, “would you prefer I do not speak of such things?”

“I just…” Link says softly, coughing a little from using his voice so much when he almost never does, “I don’t like talking about it.  Him.”

Ghirahim nods understandingly as he helps Link into his pajamas.  As he’s finally dressed, it fully occurs to him the fox is standing in front of him entirely naked.  This time the blush on his face is  _ much _ more obvious, and he covers his face (more importantly, his eyes) with his hands.

“Y-You, your clothes—you’re—you’re naked—” Link stutters out, not daring to look at the fox.

A beat of silence, then Ghirahim replies, “Ah, so I am,” he hears a snapping of fingers, then, “there, all better.”

When Link doesn’t lower his hands, Ghirahim carefully takes hold of them and lowers them from his face so Link can see that he’s now somehow magically clothed.  Is this another of the fox’s magical abilities? Getting dressed really fast?

“Don’t look so surprised over such a cheap parlor trick,” Ghirahim says, but he’s laughing, “you should see some of the other wonderful things I can do with just a snap of my fingers.”

Link thinks he’ll just take his word for it for now.  He tries and fails to repress a yawn.

“Come, I can tell you’re tired,” Ghirahim says, tossing the used towel into the nearby hamper.

Just as Ghirahim had assured him, the guards are still out cold when they exit the bathhouse.  He’d likely have gaped for a lot longer at the sight of the guards against the opposite wall, one leaned into the other with her head resting on the other’s shoulder.  Ghirahim’s all too amused by the blatant wonder on the blond’s face.

He wraps an arm around Link’s shoulders to steer him in the direction of his bedroom.  It’s a short walk from the bathhouse to his room, since Ganon would never put him somewhere that requires a lot of unsupervised walking.

When Ghirahim goes to slide the door shut, Link grabs his hand and shakes his head.  He’s not allowed to have the door shut. Ghirahim hums noncommittally, but doesn’t try to close it again.

The blond settles down on his side on his futon, turned to face Ghirahim as he sits down at Link’s bedside.  The fox settles down quietly, his tails swaying languidly behind him. Link still finds them so beautiful and mesmerizing.

“I’m beautiful, I know,” Ghirahim teases.

Link flushes, turning over to bury his face in his pillow, but it only serves to drag a cackle out of the fox.  As he tries to calm himself down, he realizes this is the most unrestrained laughter he’s heard from Ghirahim since they’ve met.  Before, he’d hear soft laughs or chuckles, but this is  _ genuine _ uncontrolled laughter.

… If only it wasn’t at Link’s own expense, he’d likely enjoy it more.

Link peeks up from his hiding place, watching Ghirahim with his big blue eyes.

“Don’t be so bashful,” he tells Link, his expression still one of mirth, “you really are so very cute, Skychild.”

Link snuggles farther under his blankets, yawning before he whispers, “Why do you always call me that?”

The kitsune is quiet long enough Link worries he hadn’t been loud enough for him to hear.  His voice is so tired from being used as much as it already has been, he really doesn’t want to repeat himself.  

Luckily, he doesn’t have to.

“Is that not what you are?” Ghirahim cocks his head to the side.  It makes Link think of a cat. “Although I do suppose it makes sense, given your current… situation, you wouldn’t know of the tales.  Where I come from, that is what all your kind are called—children of the sky. Skychildren. My people believe the Skychildren are angels from the heavens, come down to walk among men.”

Link coughs, softly asking, “Why?”

Ghirahim surprises Link by shrugging.  Such a casual, undignified action, for some reason Link had thought such a thing would be beneath him.  He’s always so… proper. Eloquent.

“That I do not know, Skychild,” Ghirahim replies after a short silence, “it is simply what I was taught as a kit.”

“And do you believe them?” Link asks curiously.

Ghirahim hums, “What I’ve learned in my life is every story held strong and true through the years often had a grain of truth buried within it somewhere.  What grain of truth is in the story of your origins, I couldn’t say.”

Link quietly ponders this.  They lapse into a comfortable silence.  Link is entirely content to just sit in companionable silence with the fox until he falls asleep, but then Ghirahim speaks.

“Would you like to hear another story?”

The last story he’d told Link was both good and terrifying.  Sad. 

Link stares up at the man suspiciously, “Does this one have a happy ending?”

“Oh, did you want one?” Ghirahim asks nonchalantly.  Link’s lack of answer is answer enough, it would seem, because Ghirahim just smirks.  “I can do that for you, little sparrow. This is the story of a hero, but not just any hero… a hero of time...”

* * *

 

Link’s life goes on like that for a while.  Painful days with Ganon, punctuated by the few blissful moments at night he got to spend with Ghirahim.  Knowing he’d just have to bear it a little longer, that he’d be seeing Ghirahim again soon, was that little push he needed to survive the day.  To hold out hope.

Ghirahim pointedly avoided telling Link sad stories after the first one, making his storytime infinitely more enjoyable.  Link would fall asleep with the fox sat beside him, spinning tales of beautiful lands, heroes and princesses. 

Before long, it was time again to have his wings clipped.  Link is more reluctant to go this time. Looks at the guard dubiously until he’s being grabbed by the scruff and roughly manhandled down the hall to the doctor.  Refuses to quit fidgeting and has to be held still, lest the doctor  _ accidentally _ cut him.

It’s not outright resistance, but nor is it amicable compliance.  Link likes his wings. Ghirahim had told him how beautiful they are, what an injustice it was to keep cutting them this way.  He doesn’t want them to be continually mutilated, being kept under Ganon’s thumb like a caged bird He wants to be free.

The doctor still succeeds in clipping his wings, and soon he finds himself back in his room.  Ganon had not requested his presence tonight, and so Link decided to skip dinner. Truly, he doesn’t want to leave his room at all.

Link settles down on the back porch, feeding the birds gathered around him in a half circle.  They are so used to being fed by him, they approach him and even land on him fearlessly. 

They make him happy.

The birds scatter as Link hears footsteps approaching behind him.

“You do love feeding your birds.”

Link glances back wide-eyed, knowing exactly whose voice he’s hearing the moment he’d spoken.

He drops the bag of birdseed.

Doesn’t dare to move even an inch.

“What’s with that look?  Don’t tell me you aren’t happy to see me, pet…”

Link shudders, neither shaking nor nodding his head at the question.

Never before has Ganondorf visited Link in his own room.  Whenever the man wishes to see him, he sends a guard to ‘request his presence’.  Obviously he still had no choice in the matter, but there was still the illusion of privacy and safety, and  _ warning. _

This.  

This is unprecedented. Abnormal.

Link trembles, wishing he could crawl under the porch and curl up out of reach from the man.  He knows it would do him no good.

Ganon slowly walks across the hardwood floor toward him, heavy footsteps seemingly giving a reverberating echo in the suffocating silence.

**_CLUNK… CLUNK… CLUNK_ **

Link screws his eyes shut, trying not to flinch away as a large hand is dropped harmlessly on his head, mussing up his hair.

“My guards inform me you’re refusing to eat.”

Something Ganon had never cared about before, so why does it bother him so now?  What is Link missing here?

Does he know something?

Link casts a glance around the area as if he’s looking for a way to escape.  He wants desperately to be anywhere but here. 

There’s the familiar sensation of a fist in his hair, tilting his head back.

“How many times have I told you to  _ look at me _ when I’m talking to you?!”

Link signs a frantic apology, forming an A sign with his fist and making circular motions over his chest.  Ganon snorts derisively at the pathetic attempt to placate him.

“Oh, you’re  _ sorry, _ are you?” Ganon asks, and it’s immediately clear to Link the apology didn’t work.  “I’ll show you how to properly apologize, then maybe you won’t be so inclined to go behind my back with your little excursions.”

Link doesn’t have much time to contemplate the fact Ganon knows, given he’s being especially roughly dragged out of the room by his arm.

* * *

 

By the time Ghirahim comes around that night, Link can barely move.  He couldn’t even find the energy to drag himself over to his futon from where he’d been tossed inside haphazardly, instead laying in the middle of the room pathetically.  His ankle is broken, and he’s pretty sure one of his wings is at the very least sprained. Lashes litter his back. 

He doesn’t even have the energy to cry about it.  Just staring soullessly out at the garden, not at all registering anything he’s seeing.  He doesn’t know how much time has passed. To him everything is just a blur of color and motion.

“They’ve really done a number on you this time, haven’t they, Skychild?”

All Link offers in reply is a weak groan.

“Will you allow me to heal you?” Ghirahim asks, kneeling down beside him.

Link blinks up at him blearily, taking several blinks before his vision clears up enough to see the fox’s face properly.  He’s not sure how to convey what he wants Ghirahim to know without speaking, so he makes a shaky attempt at speaking, coughing a few times before he succeeds.

“He… he knows someone is helping me,” the blond tells him softly, wheezes a little, “he doesn’t, doesn’t know who… but he knows someone… healed me…”

Ghirahim sighs with a shake of his head, “I feared as much, but I hoped I was wrong.”

Link stares at him dubiously.  Ghirahim pays it no mind.

“At least allow me to take away your pain and heal your wing,” Ghirahim insists, “oh, don’t look at me like that, it was obvious from the way you’re favoring your left side your wing is sprained.  It’s an obscure enough wound he shouldn’t notice it was healed, or even there in the first place.”

The blond sighs and relents, painfully straightening out his right wing so Ghirahim can better access the appendage.  There’s the sensation of nimble fingers combing through the feathers, of palms gentle caressing. Although his muscles ache, the feeling of those hands is a welcome distraction.

“Does it hurt when I touch… here?”

Link winces, wing flinching away a little.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ghirahim says, holding the wing steady, “this will be simple.”

The familiar feeling of warmth washes over his wing, but more localized.  Much like last time, it only lasts a few brief seconds and leaves Link momentarily breathless.  The warmth is quickly replaced by a relaxing, cooling sensation all throughout his body.

Muscles he hadn’t even noticed were taut are beginning to relax.  Link sighs with relief.

Ghirahim then scoops him up off the floor and carries him to the futon, setting him down gingerly.  

His muscles are weak, but Link manages to lift a hand to his lips then gesturing away from himself toward Ghirahim, signing  _ thank you.  _

Ghirahim puzzles over the sign for but an unsure moment before realization dawns over him, “Ah, I see.  You’re welcome. Your voice is tired, I presume?”

Link nods.  After all the screaming he’d done because of Ganon, he had initially feared he might have lost his voice entirely.  The blond frowns at this thought.

Ghirahim pets a hand through Link’s messy locks with a gentle tut.

“I can practically see the cogs turn inside your skull, Skychild.  You don’t have to have your entire life figured out this very moment.  Rest. You deserve it.”

He wants to protest, wants to insist he stay up a little longer.  Wants to tell the fox how much he cherishes their time together and that he doesn’t want to squander it away sleeping.  Unfortunately, he’s right about Link needing rest. The beating he’d received earlier is sapping much too much energy from him.

He still manages to pout at Ghirahim before snuggling farther under his blanket.

That hand follows him, continues to pet his head so sweetly.  Link wonders if this is what it would have felt like to have a mother, if he’d ever had one.  He wonders if this is what love feels like.

“Aren’t you tired of it all, Skychild?” the fox asks softly, much later.  Perhaps when he thinks Link has already fallen asleep. “Don’t you ever wish you could just fly away…?”

Perhaps if he had the energy he would have told him yes before unconsciousness took him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧
> 
> The good, the bad, the ugly! Did you like it? Hate it? Neither? If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll answer as best I can if possible (if it doesn't spoil the plot).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, this one's a little lackluster. I've been a little busy, but I managed to whip this out.

The following next several days, Link is no longer visited by the white haired fox.  He doesn’t know where he’s gone off to, but the man certainly isn’t… here. Link longs for his companionship.  Longs for the distraction of having him near, even for just a little while. It’s selfish, he supposes, to want him to himself so very much… he just finds he can’t really help himself.

Those words spoken to him in the serene silence of the night haunt him, keep him up at nights, keep him distracted at day.  There’s no longer anything else he can focus on, but  _ that. _

He wonders what Ghirahim’s response may have been, had he agreed with the man.  Would he have helped Link? Offered a hand, given him some word of advice? He wishes so deeply the man would return, so he might alleviate Link of all these questions.

The boy sighs as he pulls himself out of bed pitter patters his way down the hall to take a bath.  Maybe the warm water would help soothe his worries, if only for a little while.

* * *

“Pet, you’re refusing to look at me again.”

Link startles, dragging his gaze up from the potatoes he’d been distractedly shoving with his fork around his plate, up to the face of Ganon himself.  He bites nervously at his lip, sets his fork down carefully. Signs that he is sorry again.

He is thankful when that hard, yellow stare softens.  The man gathers up his plate and silverware, rounds the table to where Link is sitting.

“Are you finished with your food, my pet?” he asks, and his voice is soft, tender.  It sets Link on edge.

He nods his ascent.  Ganon takes Link’s dishes and sets them atop his own.

“Very well, come with me.  There is something I must speak to you about.”

And there it is.  The catch to this sudden gentleness.  As Ganon turns away to walk toward the kitchens, Link can’t help his shiver of trepidation.  He pulls away from the table and pads softly after the man.

Link follows him with trepidation churning in his stomach.  

Ganondorf is silent for a spell.  Just quietly washing the dishes with Link anxiously fidgeting behind him.  Such a menial task the man normally leaves to the servants, but he’s taking an agonizing amount of time to dutifully carry it out.

Surely this is no action meant out of good will.  Link doesn’t think the man is capable of such a thing.  This is only for the purpose of filling the air with tension.  To toy with him.

Another few tense moments pass.  Link glances up from the floor as he hears the clinking of Ganon putting aside the last of the silverware.  The man slowly reaches for the hand towel. Pats his hands dry.

There comes a heavy sigh from the man, causing Link to jolt rigidly.  Ganon turns, setting eyes of vivid amber on him.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” says Ganon, “it’s nearly your maturity.”

Link gulps.

He knows of this, yes.  A ‘maturity’ of course not being the same coming of age as that of a human.  By human standards, he’s been an adult for years now.

No.  Maturity is a change an Alius goes through in their early twenties.  Well enough into adulthood, Alius are much like more primitive species in that they have a ‘breeding season’.  Had Link been with his own kind, his people would likely be setting him up with a nice girl about his age to… help continue the species, so to speak.

Unfortunately for Link, he’s  _ not _ among his own people.  Further misfortune, Alius give off pheromones during breeding season.  Pheromones which humans can detect. They don’t differ from male to female, and they’ll have any people in the vicinity likely tripping over themselves just to get a taste of him.

This little fact is the crux of just why Ganon has been leaving him to sit idly by until now.  The best time to ‘claim’ him would be at his  _ maturity. _

Link uses shaky hands to sign out that he understands.

Cruel lips upturn at the corner, a satisfied huff from the man’s nose, “Good.”

The clock is ticking.  It won’t be long now.

* * *

 

Soon after Ganon’s little talk with Link comes the next day of wing clipping.

Whereas before he was demure and passive, he no longer sits idly by letting the guards or doctor do as they please.  Rather than calmly going along with them, or even merely digging his heels in as a form of resistance, he outright fights the guards.

He bites and screams and struggles, grabbing at the edge of the porch for purchase, kicks at the guards who are trying to grab his ankles.  He’s even using wings in his attempt to escape the clipping. Manages to clothesline a guard before she can get a hold of the wing first.

It was a struggle destined to fail from the beginning, however.

In total it takes six guards to cart him off to the doctor.  Two for each set of limbs so he can no longer lash out.

Even as they’re all carrying him out of the room, he cries and screams out.

Screams for Ghirahim, even if the fox has never come to save him before.  Screams the fox’s name even.

Ganon would no doubt catch wind of the fact Link had technically spoken.  He never spoke for anyone else before. Only Ghirahim. And now he was speaking for him once more, but with an audience.  Screams in the hopes of help.

But help never comes.

* * *

 

A half hour later finds Link back in his room with bloodied wings.  He’d struggled so much the doctor wasn’t able to get a clean cut, and he’d paid the price for that.

Though it hurts as it does, Link can’t find it in himself to regret any of it.

This day marks the first he had ever truly fought back.  And even if Ghirahim had never come to his aid, he would no longer sit idly by.  This marks the day he would never just take the abuse again.

Never.

That night, Ghirahim appears in the garden again.  It’s abrupt, a flash of diamond shaped lights, and then the fox is just standing there before him.  Link drops the bag of birdseed he’s holding, and the birds scatter before returning to take advantage of the bountiful amount of seeds presented to them.

Link stares wide eyed.  This is the first time he’s seen the fox  _ actually  _ appear.  He’d always wondered how he got into the palace grounds.  Somehow finding out has only brought more questions than it has answers.

“Good evening, Skychild,” Ghirahim greets him with an incline of his head.

“You… you came,” Link says in awe.

The fox gives a chuckle, “Why, of course I have.  My deepest apologies you have seen neither hide nor hair of my countenance these most recent days.  I was… tying up some loose ends, I suppose you could say.”

Link is quiet, wondering if Ghirahim might elaborate on his statement.  He does not.

“Why is it you despair, Skychild?” the man asks him.  “I can see it, written all over your face. Has something happened…?”

Link sighs, and with that sigh seems to leave all his good cheer at seeing the fox once more.  He musses up his hair tiredly, and gets up from his seat at the edge of the porch. Ghirahim follows him to where he sits on his futon.

“My maturity is soon,” he confides softly, “I… I’m scared.”

The white haired fox nods sagely.  All is silent.

“Do you wish to escape?” Ghirahim asks.

Link nods.

“Truly?  More than anything?”

“Of course!  Please, Ghirahim, do you know a way?” he’s outright begging, and he doesn’t care how pathetic he looks.

“I can help you,” assures Ghirahim, “but it will take some time.  You must be patient until then. Can you do that for me, little sparrow?”

Link gives a fervent nod.  

“Very well,” the man pats Link’s head, and Link tries not to be obvious in the way he leans into the touch.  Judging by Ghirahim’s chuckle, Link had been unsuccessful in that endeavor. “In two week’s time, the preparations will be complete.  All I need for you to do is hold on until then. I will return for you.”

They spend the rest of the night sitting in companionable silence while Ghirahim soothes over his wounded wings.  Link falls asleep to the feeling of an ashen hand stroking gently through blond locks.

Had he been paying attention he may have noticed when the fox’s nine tails became eight.


	5. Not a new chapter, I'm sorry

 

Hey, guys, sorry I haven't updated the past two weeks.  I'm dealing with some heavy stuff irl that's been eating up all my time.

I haven't dropped this fic, and I do plan to update, but I'm not sure how consistent I'll be.  Things should be settling down after August, but until then I'm not sure I'll be able to put out a chapter every single week.

 

Thank you for being patient with me, and I will try to get that next chapter written ASAP

 


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